


Emergency soul containment

by zadoorknobs



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, BDSM, Begging, Blood and Gore, Dubious Consent, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Power Dynamics, Surreal, Swordplay, Tentacles, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23397910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zadoorknobs/pseuds/zadoorknobs
Summary: After facing the Warrior of Light in Ala Mhigo Aulus mal Asina all but perished... were it not for the magitek conveyor's emergency life support and soul containment systems. His soul was extracted from his physical body and preserved inside the conveyor until the life support systems had done their work, at which point the two were reunited. What came after that however is a blur, leaving the darkest regions of his mind free to fill in the blanks with whatever they choose...
Relationships: Aulus mal Asina/Zenos yae Galvus
Kudos: 11





	Emergency soul containment

Dark.

Hot.

A metallic taste.

The smell of burning.

Then, a crescendo of shrill beeping streams into his senses.

Where is he? What happened?

Consciousness begins to flow back slowly, bit by bit.

He’s alive. Or at least, he _thinks_ he is.
    
    
    > LIFE SUPPORT SYSTEMS ONLINE
    

He concentrates on getting his eyes to focus and the information readouts of the magitek conveyor gradually fade into view again.
    
    
    > EMERGENCY SOUL CONTAINMENT SUCCESSFUL
    

But ah, he realises now it’s not _his_ eyes he’s seeing with. He tries to open them but he’s not even sure they’re there. He can’t feel the rest of his body either - instead of his usual six senses he can feel sparking electricity, hot metal and burnt out magicks.
    
    
    > AETHERIAL SIGNATURE STABLE
    > PHYSICAL HOST LIFE SIGNS STABLE
    > COMMENCING REUNIFICATION
    

Then, just as he’s beginning to get comfortable, his body, or rather, _the machine_ starts to rumble and he feels like he’s being compressed, extruded, and poured into a tiny vessel. As he takes his first gasping breath back inside his own flesh he almost misses being inside the solid metal and cermet of the conveyor. He’s suddenly acutely aware of how much everything hurts.

Slowly regaining strength in his muscles, he attempts to lift his head to survey the damage, gritting his teeth through the pain. There’s the taste of blood and firesand in his mouth and he doesn’t feel like he has full control of all his limbs yet. The conveyor is in bad shape too - levitation nacelles bent and charred, the soft upholstery of the pilot’s seat ripped and spewing its stuffing. Wanting to take a better look around, he jerks himself forwards but is met with resistance - the cables connecting him to the machine are still intact. Well, if they weren’t he’d probably be dead. Or his soul would still be stuck in the containment chamber, unable to be reunited with his flesh and blood body. He takes a deep breath, steels himself and ejects. The cables pop free of the plugs on his back and he falls unceremoniously to the floor. It’s only a few fulms but the impact feels much harder. He cries out at the pain.

“Lord Aulus?!” A distant voice reaches his ears, then rapid footsteps come towards him. It’s one of his engineers - a young Garlean man who joined the unit not too long ago. For the life of him though, he can’t remember his name. “By the emperor, it’s really you! Are you all right?”

“I’m fi-” He barely gets a word out before he breaks into haggard coughing.

“Chief!” The man leans over him, a look of intense worry on his face. “Can you stand? We have to get you out of here - Ala Mhigo is lost! We have to withdraw!”

“Lost…?” he wheezes. “Ah. Then I failed.” He grimaces through the pain and hauls himself upright.

“Chief?”

“Ha! To face the Warrior of Light, _fail_ , and yet still draw breath!” he spits, then breaks into a chuckle, which then grows into hysterical laughter fuelled by pain and adrenaline.

“Aulus?” the engineer asks quietly, likely unnerved by his outburst. “You said you would protect me.” At this Aulus snaps his head up. The voice has suddenly changed; it’s no longer the engineer he hears - it’s someone he knows so much better. Someone he quite rightfully owes his entire life to.

“You said you would lay down your life for your Lord, your _master_ , and you _dare_ laugh at your failure?” He watches in horror as the engineer’s body twists, warps and stretches until it takes the form that matches its voice:

Zenos yae Galvus.

But, something is wrong.

As he looks closer with wide eyes he notices a thin gash across his Lord’s neck, spilling blood in thin rivulets. He keeps his eyes fixed on the wound and as the seconds pass it splits and grows, and what was a small trickle soon becomes a steady flow, then rhythmic jets, in time with the beating of his heart. Aulus’ face is showered with blood, running hot and salty into his open mouth. And, despite all this, his Lord’s expression never once falters. His face is set - seemingly uncaring and unchanging, his gaze boring a hole into Aulus’ skull.

“My Lord, I-!” he begs, dropping to his knees, feet slipping underneath him in the pool of his Prince’s blood. He lowers his head to the floor, soaking his overlong hair in it. “My failure in the line of duty is _unforgivable_ and I accept whatever punishment you think is fitting for a pathetic wretch such as myself.”

“Raise your head,” he says calmly. “I will not have you prostrate yourself so.” Aulus complies and as he does so, Zenos reaches for his scabbard, and draws a sword. He slowly raises it, its tip travelling past Aulus’ thighs, his waist, his chest, then finally it comes to rest against his cheek, almost in a caress. “Lick it.”

Something dark stirs inside Aulus then and he glances up at Zenos once more, his mouth hanging open. His eyes fall to his neck, and he sees that the bleeding has stopped; the wound has gone. And yet, as he sucks on his lower lip, he still tastes the salty, metallic flavour of his Lord’s lifeblood.

Zenos lightly slides his blade down Aulus’ cheek to his lips, the sharp point of the kissaki never once breaking the skin. Aulus turns his head and softly kisses the flat side of it, then opens his mouth and begins to slowly run his tongue along the hamon as it winds back and forth along the tempered steel. He tastes iron and mineral oil, with the faintest hint of cloves. Zenos clearly treats his weapons with the utmost care.

“Disgusting,” Zenos hisses and slaps Aulus’ cheek with the flat of the blade - a playful reprimand - and he cries out. He slaps him again, harder this time, but still so careful never to draw blood. Aulus simply whines and leans further forwards, gazing up at Zenos pleadingly, then he raises his hand, grips the blunt edge of the blade and gives it a small tug. A tiny smile twitches across Zenos’ lips and he lowers his weapon and steps forwards. “So _needy_.” He places an armoured boot on Aulus’ shoulder. “Pathetic.” He punctuates the word by shoving Aulus hard with his foot and he’s knocked backwards and falls, limbs sprawling across the tiled floor.

Zenos raises his sword again and holds it just above Aulus’ chest for a few seconds, then he slashes horizontally with perfect precision. Aulus’ tie is neatly bisected, and his shirt and coat ripped, exposing a tiny sliver of skin. Zenos slashes again. Shirt buttons fly off and clatter to the floor. Another slash; more exposed flesh. He continues to cut away at Aulus’ clothes until they fall away like shredded paper, leaving his pale torso completely bare and miraculously free of lacerations. He lightly runs the tip of his blade down his chest, from his collarbone to his stomach, watching as it dips slightly between each of his ribs. “What a weak, fragile body you have.” Aulus whines and arches his back as if to further emphasise the lack of meat on his bones.

“Please, my Lord…” he begs.

“‘Please’ what?” he replies flatly, that same uncaring look in his eyes. “Kill you?”

Aulus swallows.

“Hurt you?”

He whines and bites his lower lip.

“ _Fuck_ you?”

He squeezes his eyes shut and tips his head back. Zenos slides the blade further down, coming to rest at the hem of his trousers, below which is a noticeable bulge. “Look at you.” He slides the kissaki lower, barely ghosting over the tented fabric, and Aulus lets out a soft groan. “So _depraved_.”

“My Lord! Please…” he begs again. He still can’t bring himself to say what he wants. It’s too much, too indecent.

“Cease your whining. I know what you desire.” Zenos then throws aside his sword and it hits the floor with a loud clatter that reverberates throughout the room. He drops to his knees straddling Aulus’ hips and leans over him, close enough to pick out every drop of congealed blood encrusting his face. There’s a rattle of armour and he slides a hand down to gently palm Aulus’ cock. “ _This_ is what you desire. Is it not?”

He doesn’t reply, he simply reaches up and pulls Zenos down into a kiss. He’s fully expecting to be chastised for it - acting out of turn as he did - but instead Zenos forces himself down further and shoves his tongue into his mouth. It’s the best reply Aulus could have hoped for. Feeling bolder by the second, he tilts his hips upwards, attempting to grind against Zenos’ hand and his Lord again deigns to grant him his wish: he presses down hard and squeezes, almost painfully. Aulus moans and hungrily bites down on Zenos’ tongue and lips, gnashing his teeth at anything they can get purchase on like a starving animal. His Lord’s blood fills his mouth once again but this time it’s hotter and fresher than before - no longer the jet of an arterial spray half-cooled by the air.

“Please… My Lord…” he mewls, reaching both hands down to undo his own trousers.

“Oh, I think not.” Zenos draws back a hand and strikes him across the face with his palm. Aulus yelps but isn’t deterred: he slips a hand inside his smallclothes and begins to jerk himself off. “ _Disgusting._ ” Another slap and Aulus cries out again but Zenos makes no other attempt to stop him. “Take them off,” he orders and Aulus freezes, not quite believing his ears. “Did you not hear me? Your trousers. Take them off.”

Aulus shakily complies, yanking them down past his hips. Zenos follows suit: he removes his codpiece, freeing his own cock and it springs out already stiff and dripping.

“My Lord, I…” Aulus breathes, eyes fixed on Zenos’ thick shaft. “I want…”

“ _What_ do you want?” Zenos leans over him and the tip of his cock brushes against Aulus’ thigh, wetting it with precum. “I want you to say it, nay, _beg_ for it.”

He can’t even look at him, but he voices his request, breath shaky. “P-please, my Lord. I want…” He swallows, hard. “I want your cock inside me - every _ilm_ of it.” Gaining more confidence, he dares to meet Zenos’ gaze once more. “I want you to fuck me as if…” He swallows again and takes a breath. “As if you’re trying to kill me.”

“Very well.” The faintest trace of a smile passes over Zenos’ face and he roughly manhandles Aulus’ body into position. He forces him onto his side, pressing his knees together with one hand, then he shuffles himself forwards and slides his length up between bony buttocks. Aulus squirms and twitches expectantly. Zenos brings a hand down and guides himself into place, then slowly, slowly, begins to push his cock into Aulus’ tight little hole. Immediately Aulus feels himself stretched too far and he yelps in pain. This is what he wants, isn’t it? He wants it to hurt. He wants to feel alive again. Each ilm Zenos sinks into him feels like an impossible amount - he’s already too full, his Lord’s cock too big to fit - and yet, he continues to take him in, ilm by ilm, until he’s completely impaled, right up to the hilt. He lets out the deep breath he’d been holding and begins to pant. His own cock shudders and throbs in pleasure and he reaches down to stroke it again. Zenos eyes the jerking hand and licks his lips. He quickly pulls back, then shoves into him with such force Aulus could swear he sees stars. He swears loudly and bites his lip to stop himself crying out again as Zenos shoves in a second time, even harder than before. He presses his head into the floor tiles and moans, mouth wide open and spilling drool.

“Yes… Yes!” There’s a mad look in Zenos’ eyes now - his prey is cornered and completely at his mercy. It’s time for him to move in for the kill. He pulls out yet further and slams back in, making Aulus cry out again. “Scream for me!” He carries on, slowly building his pace, each thrust earning him yet more moans, gradually increasing in pitch and volume.

“My Lord!” Aulus somehow manages to blurt out in his daze. He can’t stand it. Even though he has all of him, he still wants more. The pain isn’t enough. The pleasure isn’t enough. He’s not sure anything will truly be enough for him anymore.

Then, just as he’s thinking this, his surroundings begin to shift - the solid tiled floor becomes soft and pliable and he starts to sinks into it. He looks up at the ceiling of the Chamber of Knowledge and it’s undulating, suddenly covered in a thousand tiny scales. He looks to Zenos and he’s changed too - his armour is no longer steel but dragon scales, and his eyes glow with the Resonant. He reaches down and grips Aulus’ waist with clawed hands, steadying his body as he carries on fucking him.

They both plunge into the floor, swallowed up by pulsing dragon flesh. It presses in against them from every side, throbbing in time with Zenos’ thrusts. Aulus opens his mouth wide to pant and moan and a portion of the flesh pushes its way past his lips and begins to fuck his mouth. He gags, almost choking on it as it forces its way down his throat. At the same time, he feels Zenos’ cock expand inside him, stretching him ever wider, bringing him close to climax. He starts to move the hand gripping his own cock with a new urgency and the dragon flesh spills around him as if to assist, waving back and forth, following his hand. Then, with one particularly hard thrust from Zenos he groans around the flesh filling his mouth and comes, spilling hot seed into the flesh around them. But Zenos doesn’t stop - he keeps on pounding him ceaselessly as Aulus comes down from the high and begins to scream in pain. It feels like an eternity until he’s hard again, then his screams of pain transform back into pleasure. Before he knows it, he’s coming all over again.

He loses track of how many times this repeats. He’s sore, exhausted, but Zenos - or whatever monster he’s become now - doesn’t relent. The dragon flesh closes in on them both yet more as if to suffocate them. He finds it harder to breathe, his vision begins to darken, and then…

He wakes.

He’s in his bed, still in his work clothes, tie pulled uncomfortably tight around his neck.

He coughs and scrambles to sit up and clutches at his neck. He must have passed out from exhaustion and almost strangled himself in his sleep. Fragments of his dream - or would it be nightmare? - come back to him and he’s horrified at what his psyche managed to conjure up. Some of it feels familiar, as if it’s based on memory, but the rest he sincerely hopes was never real.

He hauls himself up from the bed finally and realises with a grimace that his trousers are damp.


End file.
